


Shepherd's Purse

by thousandleaf



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thousandleaf/pseuds/thousandleaf
Summary: Tidus tries to help with the cooking. In-game. One-shot.
Relationships: Tidus/Yuna (Final Fantasy X Series)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Shepherd's Purse

**Author's Note:**

> A small one-shot inspired by my latest multi-chapter endeavor, What You Love is Your Fate (currently only on FF). 
> 
> Through all the tragedy and chaos, I like to think Tidus and Yuna had some very special, very intimate moments during their downtime--the kind of moments where it can feel like nothing has happened and yet so much has changed.

**Shepherd’s Purse**

He’s tired. They’re all tired. All of them sluggish and grime-soaked like a pack of formaldehyde corpses. He’s never thought of himself as very prim nor proper, but one night’s sleep on an unforgiving lump of earth has been nagging his spine all day and he’s starting to think he’d _literally_ kill for a pillow. He’s starting to wonder how much more dirt can live below his nails before they start growing roots.

Most of all, he’s hungry. Really, _really_ hungry.

Around him, the vague scent of burning food fills the air. It’s a scent he’s come to detest and depend on at the same time: the warm, earthy aroma of boiled roots and grain. 

Tired, annoyed, the sight of the bubbling cauldron is triggering.

“Let me guess,” he asks, blue eyes scrutinizing the contents of the pot, “more bark for dinner? Haven’t you guys heard of cheese? Or French fries? Or like…chicken?”

Lulu shoves the steaming ladle into his direction. “If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

“Never mind,” he says, taking a step back.

On the opposite end of the fire, Yuna stifles a laugh behind her sleeve.

“I think it’s safer if I stay over here,” he says, taking a seat on the ground next to her.

Yuna glances toward him. “You shouldn’t tease her like that.

“I was serious. You’d complain too if you knew what pizza tasted like.”

“Pizza?” she asks. “That sounds strange.”

His grin deepens. 

Sure, her unwavering interest in just about everything he says is an ego boost, but he adores her curiosity for far deeper reasons. Or really, he adores everything about her for no real reason. He adores her because she’s Yuna and no one else in either of his worlds has ever made him feel this way.

He leans a little closer and the fire’s crackle is loud enough to mask his next words. “Picture some flat dough—round and like this big.” He extends his arms forward as if to hold an entire pie. “Throw some tomato sauce on it and a shit ton—sorry, I mean a ton—throw a ton of cheese over that and then top it off with anything from pineapples to sausage. The possibilities are as endless as they are ridiculous. My personal favorite is the classic pepperoni. Fire it up in an oven and—boom!—you just made yourself a pizza.”

Yuna’s eyebrows remain furrowed. “I don’t understand. Is a pepperoni a fruit? Is this a type of tart with tomatoes?”

He laughs loudly. “Not a fruit, it’s—” he pauses, “—beef? Pork? I don’t know, that part doesn’t really matter so much.”

“I’m not sure that sounds too appetizing.”

And he laughs again despite the blankness on her face. If only they had been from the same world from the beginning—he would have gladly spent years talking about pepperoni and tarts and all the other meaningless things they find themselves discussing as though they were political debates, and much less time on just about everything else.

“Well what about you?” he asks. “If you could have anything to eat right now what would it be?”

“Anything to eat?” she repeats, thinking. “A…mango smoothie?”

He almost scoffs. “For real? We’ve been eating sludge for weeks and you choose a smoothie?”

Yuna’s face reddens. “I-I don’t know, I thought of Besaid and the mango trees and—”

His deep belly laugh stops her. She tries to fight back her own smile, tries to defend her answer and her island, but everything about Tidus is much too hard resist and now they’re both ha-ha-ing with no one around to ask them if they’ve gone crazy.

“Hey!” Tidus exclaims, standing up from the ground. “There was shepherd’s purse by the creek we passed by. Let’s get some! Lulu, your sludge needs help!”

“Excuse me?” The black mage glowers from the pot.

“Shepherd’s purse, it’ll help! Don’t ask me how I know that, but it will. Yuna, let’s go!”

“Hold it!” Lulu yells, halting Tidus. “Take Wakka.”

He looks over to the red head in the distance bending and unfurling his arms. 

Tidus’ nose wrinkles. He made his usual rounds with the other guardians already—start with Rikku, nod at Kimhari, ask Auron for a sip of his sake, egg Wakka on enough for the surly man to overcompensate and tire himself out. It’s a routine he’s mastered to strategically end his day with Yuna every time. Yesterday it was jumping jacks; today it was push-ups.

“Wakka’s too busy trying not pull a muscle.”

“Then take Rikku.”

“She’s all the way out there!” he retorts, pointing to the Al Bhed beyond the campfire by Kimhari’s watchful stance. “The creek is right behind us. C’mon, Lulu, I’m trying to help you out.”

Her deep, purple eyes shift between the two. “Fine. Go. But if you’re not back in ten minutes I’m hunting for you myself.”

“Always thinking rationally, Lulu. We’ll see you in eleven minutes.” His hands find Yuna’s shoulders, turning her around and guiding her toward the forest.

“We’ll be back!” Yuna yells behind.

* * *

Tidus finds the flowering weed in an instant. “Ha! I was right,” he says, bending at the knee to pull at its roots. “Bless you, ninth grade biology. Didn’t learn a single thing except how ridiculous the name shepherd’s purse sounds.” 

He turns to Yuna behind him, hands clasped over her skirt. “As cute as you look standing over there, mind lending me a hand?”

She looks down at the ground. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“About what?”

“The shepherd’s thing.”

“Huh?” His head tilts. “You thought I was lying?”

Yuna shrugs, coy smile plastered to her face.

_Oh._ He stands up, dropping the weeds from his grasp. “You thought I was trying to sneak off with you?”

“It…crossed my mind.”

“Is that what you wanted?” he asks, voice dangerously low.

He watches the surprise unfold on her face: the quick widening of eyes by the direct question, the slight twist in her smile tipping on the mischievous. He takes it as a _yes_ and walks closer to her, eyes narrowed on the way her mouth parts when he stops.

“Yuna?” he asks, inches from her face.

Her reply is a whimper or a mew, or some other foreign noise he’s never heard from her before but has him immediately weak in the knees. He recognizes the sound in himself when his lips find hers—the delight in quenching weeks of insatiability in a matter of seconds. It’s a soft, slow kiss, unlike the rapid pulse beating in his chest. He’s still not used to the feeling of kissing Yuna. Still not used to being able to touch her, modest it may be. It makes him feel like a kid again—nervous and clumsy around the prettiest girl in school. Only instead of a crush it’s burning desire, and instead of a girl from school it’s the love of his life. 

He wishes so badly he could tell her how he feels, show her if she let him, but he remembers that time is a fickle thing in Yuna’s presence and their ten minutes must be over by now.

“Wait,” Yuna says as he pulls away. “Do something different.”

“Different?” he repeats, perplexed by the demand.

“You’ve kissed me before,” she says, stepping backward, almost presenting herself to him. “Do something different.”

He swallows hard. “To _you?”_

She smiles, recognizing the fear in his tone. “Is that odd?” she asks, unabashed by her own inexperience. “Isn’t there anything else beyond kissing we could try?”

“Yeah—a lot, but I don’t think we can squeeze it into the next thirty seconds.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant,” she says, turning red in an instant. “I meant something _like_ kissing, but…different.”

A million scenarios run through his mind, none of them appropriate or practical in the moment. 

Leave it to Yuna to ask such a loaded question with no clue. Her curiosity, he’s learned, is as adorable as it is terrifying. It’s just the right combination to stunt him, turn him into a puddle of goo, and—underneath the terror—excite him beyond his dreams.

He walks back up to her, hand reaching for the hair around her face. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, cupping her cheek within a gloved hand. 

She leans into his touch with closed eyes, and that’s when he spots it—the very thing she asked for. Her head, titled to receive his hand, has swept the hair from her shoulders, exposing a very pale neck to his wandering eyes. 

He bends down, hand still holding her face, and plants one semi-open kiss on the soft skin of her neck, just below her ear—a place he’s sure _no one_ has ever reached.

Her audible gasp confirms the thought.

He pulls back to meet her eyes. Her mouth remains hung, her head limp in his hand.

“Like kissing, but different,” he says behind a grin.

Yuna’s eyes run across his face. She settles on his lips, the ones with a phantom presence on her neck, and says, “Do it again.”


End file.
